


Where the kind things are

by epsilonargus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Community: hp_crossgenfest, Cross-Generation Relationship, Dragons, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epsilonargus/pseuds/epsilonargus
Summary: Charlie didn't think there was any other way to live, until he was forced to take Teddy Lupin in as a dragon trainer. Teddy didn't think he could ever be forgiven, until Charlie Weasley told him there was no shame in being kind.





	Where the kind things are

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this fic! It was a fun one to write - thanks to shiftylinguini for an interesting prompt. I would also definitely not have been able to make it through without my cheerleader and beta, K - so much love to you! And of course, thank you for reading :)

On cold nights like this, Teddy likes to sit by Mercè’s enclosure, basking in the warmth of the smouldering heaps the Catalonian Fireball creates for her nest. He perches on a nearby log, draws his legs up to his chest and wraps his blanket tightly around him.

The black dragon sleeps on the far side of the enclosure, her tail wrapped around her body and her head tucked into the crook of a leg. Her single obsidian horn shows, as well as the broken stump of the second horn. Mercè lost it in the illegal dragon-fighting ring the reserve rescued her from. It’s been six months, but she’s still skittish around other dragons, so they keep her here at this separate outpost.

Footsteps crunch along the leaf-strewn path towards him. He doesn’t need to turn to see who it is. There are only two of them out here. He clutches his blanket tighter around him, stiffening as Charlie Weasley sits down next to him. The older man holds out a steaming mug of tea.

‘Chamomile,’ he says. ‘Helps you sleep.’

Teddy looks at the proffered mug; Charlie has one for himself. He means to sit here with Teddy, drinking tea. Teddy suppresses a sigh.

‘Thanks,’ he says, taking the mug without looking up.

He wraps his cold hands around the cup. The heating spell on his blanket isn’t keeping too well out in the open, and he’s grateful for the additional warmth. Charlie takes a noisy slurp from his mug. Teddy pretends to ignore him. But the older man clearly wants attention. Eventually, he breaks the silence with: ‘You’ve read Harry’s letter?’

‘Yeah … I’ve already heard about it from Lily though,’ Teddy says, looking up at the sky.

Thick, heavy clouds are slowly drifting across the sky, hiding any stars from view. The weather has been particularly chilly lately, with the wind rattling in the bare branches overhead. Winter is far less kind in this part of the forest. The dragonologists hoped that they would be able to move Mercè back to the reserve before winter properly set in, but she’s taking longer than most of the other dragons to recover from the trauma she suffered. Not that Teddy blames her.

He was onsite when they brought her back Petrified, and he saw the weeping open sores on her limbs where her jailers chained her, the scales rotting in places, black and writhing with maggots, her amber eyes crazed with pain and terror. He also saw Charlie, who led the rescue party, swearing and brushing off Mediwizards’ attempts to fix his broken nose and hexed leg, which trailed behind him limp as a deflated balloon.

‘I’m fine!’ he thundered. ‘It’s _her_ we have to heal, you idiots! Let me go!’

They had to use _Incarcerous_ on him to get him to stop. Charlie Weasley is a mad man when it comes to dragons. He looks at Teddy now with a look of incredulity.

‘You _knew_ Harry’s going out with Draco Malfoy, and you didn’t think to tell me?’ he says with mock outrage. ‘How could you? Isn’t this the kind of news that breaks the Internet, as you youngsters say these days?’

Teddy laughs despite himself, rolling his eyes. ‘Well, you wouldn’t have this problem if you people would _text_ like what we youngsters have been trying to tell you for ages.’

‘I text,’ Charlie retorts. ‘ _Harry_ doesn’t. It’s hard to get old gnomes to move into new gardens. Besides, I don’t think Harry was so eager for you to find out, him dating your uncle.’

‘Why should _I_ mind when his children don’t?’

‘He’s always regarded you as his first-born,’ Charlie says matter-of-factly, taking another sip of tea.

Teddy grimaces. ‘And that’s the reason why James only started being a little friendlier the past year.’

Charlie shrugs. ‘Nah, that’s because James is the competitive sort – aggressive like Ginny. Speaking of my sister, I don’t think she’ll take to the news very well. Never liked being replaced, my little sister.’

‘She’s fine,’ Teddy says. ‘Lily told me she was the one who talked Harry into asking Uncle Draco out. She heard them in the kitchen, Ginny chewing Harry out for being a disappointment to Gryffindor House.’ He chuckles.

Charlie snorts. ‘Did she now? Well, I’m surprised.’

‘Why? You haven’t really spent much time around her since her childhood, have you? You don’t know the person she is now,’ Teddy points out. ‘Ginny is one of the kindest people in the world – just like the rest of you Weasleys. I call it a genetic disease.’

‘Genetic disease?’ Charlie frowns. ‘That’s something to do with genes, yeah? The little things floating around in our bodies.’

Teddy wonders how Hogwarts could have gone on for so long without including science in their curriculum. Sure, magic is the lifeblood of their world, but science could have accelerated the growth of magical studies at an unimaginable rate. There is a Squib scientist teaching at Hogwarts now, along with a Squib engineer, and their classes are always oversubscribed.

‘Something like that,’ he smirks. ‘I think there’s just something in the Weasley blood that compels you to be nice to everyone.’

‘Everyone?’ Charlie repeats sceptically, raising his eyebrows. He gestures to the slumbering dragon in front of them. ‘You should have seen what I did to the people who kept her. I wish I could have been less kind, but that would have landed me in Azkaban.’

‘I heard,’ Teddy says quietly, looking down at his cup.

‘Over forty years I’ve been doing this, and it still boggles my mind the fucking cruel things we do to creatures different from us,’ Charlie says, staring at Mercè. ‘Wizard to wizard, wizard to Muggle, wizard to beasts …’

‘That’s why I say you’re kind. It still boggles your mind, because you still see the good in people. You aren’t … cynical.’

‘And you are?’ Charlie looks at him now with amusement. ‘Is that trendy amongst the young now? To be cynical and filled with ennui at the sheer injustice of your existence?’

Teddy blanches, clenching the cup tightly. For a moment, he is back in the kitchen, crouched on the floor before his godfather and grandmother, shaking and sobbing. _Why do you think your mother gave up her life for?_ Granny asked, her eyes shining with unshed tears. _For you to throw away your existence for a little taste of excitement?_ His hair must have changed colour, because Charlie looks alarmed.

‘I’m sorry, have I upset you?’ he asks, a little confused. ‘What did I say?’

‘No – no, it’s fine,’ Teddy snaps, focusing his thoughts.

His hair changes from white back to his usual mousy brown. Before coming here, he liked wearing his hair jet-black and shoulder-length, usually closely braided along his scalp. But there is no point doing that there. The dragons don’t care what that pesky human looks like, and Teddy thinks the other dragon keepers might like him better if he fit in. He’s clearly not doing that well of a job on the latter, stuck out here in the outpost as he is.

The programme director said two weeks, but two weeks became a month, and a month became two months, because Mercè is recovering slowly and the other dragon keeper trainees who were supposed to take over were needed elsewhere. _Keeper Weasley also reported that you have maintained a strong camaraderie with the Catalonian Fireball. That is a very positive sign. We would like you to keep working on her_ , the director wrote.

Charlie Weasley, the occasional owl, his laptop and mobile are his only connections to the outside world. The time difference from the UK means that it takes a while for his friends to respond to his messages, and while the owls bear nice, long letters chock-full of details, it means he has to exercise his hand writing similarly long replies. And Charlie – who brings the food supplies every week even though he doesn’t really need to, because Teddy can easily Disapparate to the nearest village for a quick grocery run – only stays for a night.

Teddy still can’t decide to long for or to loathe Charlie’s visits. He enjoys their conversations, but sometimes he inadvertently says things that remind Teddy of horridness he would rather not think about. That is the danger of talking to anyone. All things considered, he doesn’t quite mind his solitary life out here. It’s safer that way.

‘What did I say to upset you?’ Charlie repeats, gentle but insistent.

Teddy sighs, closing his eyes briefly. Being around people also means they will eventually ask their questions, and he _really_ doesn’t want to answer them. Especially if these questions come from Charlie Weasley, the man against whom he has a perennial weakness. He knows it’s only a matter of time before he cracks; sooner or later, he will give in to temptation.

‘I’m not upset,’ he says, getting up. ‘I’m fine. Thank you for the tea, Keeper Weasley. Good night.’

He leaves the full mug on the log next to Charlie, and walks away from desire.

* * *

Charlie takes a sip of tea, and sighs. He stares morosely at the sleeping dragon. The Fireball is recovering very well: Teddy’s very thorough reports indicate that her appetite is good, and she is not as aggressive as she was at the start. Her wounds have healed, and her broken wings are nearly whole again. She’s on the right path, which is why Charlie and the other keepers thought it safe to leave a trainee to watch over her.

Teddy is doing the job very well, as Charlie expected. The boy is quick and observant, and he doesn’t balk at the extensive time spent alone. In fact – Charlie realised very quickly to his chagrin – Teddy Lupin very much welcomes being alone. Charlie is certain this isn’t what Harry had in mind when he asked – begged, really – Charlie to help his precious godson.

‘They used him to get to me,’ Harry said tersely, the tension in his clenched jaw and fists telling Charlie that he would never truly forgive the people who hurt Teddy so badly.

It was over a year ago when Charlie was back at the Burrow for Christmas holidays, and Harry came to him with a proposal. Teddy needed to get out of the UK for the time being, but Harry didn’t want the boy to feel like he was being exiled – even though he essentially was – so he thought Teddy could be sent overseas to pick up some sort of skill or training.

Teddy was debating between a career in Care for Magical Creatures or Muggle Liaison before the Squibble debacle blew up in his face and destroyed any chance of a Muggle-related career. So, Care for Magical Creatures it was. Naturally, Harry thought of Charlie, ignoring the idea that Teddy might not care for dragons. Dragons, after all, aren’t the easiest of beasts to love.

Either the boy’s opinions were overruled by his godfather, uncle and grandmother or he didn’t care, because a month after Harry pleaded with Charlie to pull the necessary strings to bring in a late applicant for the trainee programme, Teddy Lupin turned up at the reserve, a plain, mousy creature completely different from the cocky, vibrant youth Charlie remembered from brief encounters years ago.

There is no doubt the boy is broken. Everyone at the reserve can tell; you can’t be a dragon keeper for decades without developing a sixth sense for wounded creatures. That’s why they have been kind and patient for the most part with Teddy. It helps that he’s a quick learner and seems to be developing a genuine interest and respect for dragons. It _doesn’t_ help that even after ten months, Teddy remains as prickly as a cornered Horntail.

Charlie sighs again, Vanishing his empty cup and Teddy’s full cup. At least he knows how to soothe a Horntail. With a boy, he is completely lost in the forest without a wand. Teddy is rejecting most of his overtures – and not without reason. Charlie knows he’s absolutely pants at being an uncle; he’s never cared for children, and he doesn’t know how to be a role model.

He gets to his feet, brushing wood chips off his arse. Wind is picking up now, the branches of the trees rustling loudly. The trees are groaning. He looks up at the cloud-laden sky worriedly. He’s supposed to go back tomorrow morning – there is an upcoming rescue mission in Italy he needs to prepare for – but he doesn’t like the idea of leaving Teddy alone to deal with Mercè through her first storm.

He makes his way back to the cottage, which is within view of the dragon enclosure. They are deep within the forest here, swathed in the hush and shadows of towering conifers. Charlie winces, thinking of Teddy spending all those weeks by himself in this silence. He’s really buggered this up, hasn’t he? What if his efforts are damaging the boy further?

He shoves open the heavy front door to see Teddy standing at the stove in the kitchen. He turns at the sound of Charlie coming in, and holds up a plate of sandwiches. ‘Grilled cheese. I thought food might help us sleep a little better than chamomile tea.’

‘Brilliant!’ Charlie says gleefully, bounding over to grab a piping hot sandwich. ‘Ooh, look at that cheese oozing out! Grilled cheese sandwiches are my favourite, did you know?’

‘Yeah, I do. You told me before,’ Teddy says softly, looking down as he set the plate down at the counter.

Charlie continues chewing vigorously, ignoring the sudden tumult of emotions crashing through his chest. He tells himself to pretend not to see it – not to see that almost shy dip of the boy’s head, the huskiness in his voice, the pleasure that is dawning across his face. _There is nothing there_ , he tells himself firmly. _You’re mad. Absolutely bonkers, mate. Don’t you bloody dare go there._

Teddy grabs a sandwich before placing a stasis charm on the plate. Without looking at Charlie, he goes over to the sole armchair a mere two steps away, and curls up in front of the smouldering wood stove. He draws his legs to his chest, resting his chin on his knees, and munches on his sandwich, staring blankly into the fire.

Charlie leans against the kitchen counter and tries not to watch the boy. Not bloody likely, considering the close quarters. The rough-hewn little cottage is all of one room, enough for a kitchen in one half, a bed and toilet in the other, and a square table with two stools in the middle. The armchair, which Teddy conjured when he first came here, is squished between the table and the stove, making it impossible to go around one side of the table.

Charlie called it a fire hazard and told Teddy to toss it. Teddy merely gave him a look and continued on his way. He is, after all, living in a wooden cottage within close proximity to a fire-breathing beast – what greater risk can there be? Charlie didn’t bother telling him that the cottage is built by the keepers to withstand dragon attacks – fire and otherwise – and that armchair certainly is not. He wasn’t about to take away whatever comforts the boy wanted, so secretly, he cast industrial-strength fire-retardant spells on the armchair (and every piece of the boy’s clothing while he was at it).

Charlie looks around the cottage, casting around for something to say. The muffled howling of wind outside fills the space. He doesn’t know how he had upset Teddy earlier, so he doesn’t know what he can’t say – a stupid, frustrating predicament. Teddy is as stubborn as only Harry Potter can raise him to be.

Teddy breaks the silence. ‘Are you surprised that Harry’s bi?’

He doesn’t look up, continues staring into the flames. He holds the last bite of his sandwich in his hands seemingly forgotten.

‘Yes,’ Charlie admits honestly. ‘I’ve always thought he was like the rest of my brothers – straight as a Stunner, doing my mother proud by producing grandchildren by the dozen. Youngest Head Auror in history. Saviour of the wizarding world. Your godfather isn’t the sort to be … a little different, is he?’

‘You’ve never seen him with Uncle Draco,’ Teddy replies, finally looking up, a wry smile playing on his lips. ‘Have you?’

‘No. I’ve already left school when they were Year 1s …’

‘And you’ve hardly been back home since you left at eighteen,’ Teddy finishes for him. ‘Well, if you’ve seen them together, you would be a lot less surprised. I mean, when I was younger, I couldn’t understand … but once I started dating, it makes a _lot_ more sense. Albus was the one who called it though.’

‘They’ve been friends since you were a baby, yeah?’

Teddy nods. ‘Uncle Draco was married then too. A political arrangement, he called it. He’s gay … so … it was something about producing an heir. But I don’t think it’s as cold-hearted as he likes to make it out to be. He enjoys being a dad, you can tell. He loves and spoils Scorpius to death, that little brat.’

He stops, and tosses the last bit of sandwich into the fire. Charlie hears him swallow hard. Then his voice, soft and careful: ‘You think liking men is something … different?’

Charlie hears the hitch in Teddy’s voice, and his heart plummets, his stomach clenching. He flushes, heat washing over him. How does he answer this question? Merlin, how does he answer when he has been avoiding it all his life?

This was the main reason he was reluctant to agree to Harry’s request for him to bring Teddy into the reserve. He didn’t want anybody from home in this life he has built away from it. He chose to keep his lives separate for a reason. Teddy is a contamination, bridging what shouldn’t in the worst possible way. Now, of course, there are other reasons he should have never agreed in the first place.

‘Not different in a bad way,’ he says.

‘All right … What if … I told you I’ve slept with,’ – Teddy swallows hard – ‘men too?’

And at that precise moment, a tremendous crack shoots through the forest, and Mercè roars in panicked response. They snap to action before the dragon’s roar even fades from the air. Charlie is pulling the front door open, Teddy right behind him, and they leave the unanswered questions behind in the cottage.

* * *

Teddy loves Charlie when he’s with dragons. There is a sense of grandeur that surrounds a man who is truly masterful at his work, loving and enjoying every nasty bit of it. Charlie with dragons is like _Vermillious Tria_ against a pitch-dark sky: illuminating.

Mercè is trying to break free of the enclosure, her wings half-extended, her eyes wild and rolling with panic. She jumps, her powerful legs propelling her skywards, and crashes against the enormous invisible dome the wizards had conjured around her enclosure. She roars in fury, in distress, landing with a thump that reverberates through the ground – a thousand kilograms of muscle and claws.

The sky echoes her with monstrous thunder, lightning splitting apart a sky laden with dark clouds. The wind blows needle-sharp drizzle against their faces. The storm is closing in on them, but has yet to release its true strength.

‘Merlin’s balls,’ Teddy whispers, his wand clutched in his hand.

‘Keep out of the enclosure. Make sure the barrier doesn’t come down,’ Charlie says tersely, not looking at Teddy, his eyes focused on Mercè.

‘No,’ Teddy says immediately. ‘I’ve spent every day of the past two months with her. I know her. Charlie, let me go in.’

Charlie twists around to frown at him. Teddy understands his conflict: his professional assessment that Teddy has proven himself to be a competent keeper in the past year (Teddy knows he’s good) against the promise Harry must have wrung out of Charlie to keep his godson safe (Teddy also knows his godfather very well).

Mercè roars again, her anguish sweeping over them. Teddy sees the indecision vanish from Charlie’s eyes, and he smiles. Dragons always come first with Charlie. Without waiting for his words, Teddy darts forwards.

There is no point trying to Stun Mercè. Her growth has been stunted by her years of torture, but she is still a Fireball, the second largest breed. Teddy and Charlie alone would not be powerful enough to subdue her with Stunners. They could bring her down with a well-placed curse, but why in the name of Salazar’s snakes would Teddy want to hurt a dragon they are supposed to have rescued _from_ pain? That would destroy everything he has built with her.

So instead, Teddy releases a gigantic fart bomb. 

When Catalonian Fireballs are hatchlings, their mothers would breathe fire on them, up until they are six months old. Dragon fire is a result of a chemical reaction churning in their guts, releasing a sulphurous stench every time a dragon breathes fire, which they do rarely because of the sheer amount of energy that it requires. The smell of farts reminds Mercè of her mother, of safety and peace, of the days before her captors slaughtered her mother and seized her as a hapless baby.

She stops thrashing about momentarily, puzzled; it is long enough for Charlie to cast a soothing spell ancient dragonologists had specially created for their charges. The dragon lashes her tail, still bewildered but obliging. Her wings come down, folding back against her body. Teddy breathes. _Too easy._ She swings her head around, smelling and sighting the wizards, and growls. _Or not._

‘Ungrateful bint,’ Teddy mutters, his chest flooding with the warmth of elation.

They leave the enclosure before the dragon gets it into her mind to attack these wizards trespassing on her territory. By now, the drizzle has thickened into big, fat raindrops. They lower their heads against the downpour, checking that the barrier spells are in place. In her enclosure, Mercè curls up her sinuous body, tucking her head under a leg, dry and warm.

Charlie adds a sound-deadening spell for good measure; Teddy gives him an enthusiastic thumbs-up. With the rain in their eyes and the wind in their ears, there is not much beyond gestures for communication. So when Charlie is ready to leave, he grabs Teddy’s hand to pull him away, and he doesn’t let go as he yanks Teddy along.

The warmth that fills Teddy is quite different from the feeling of having successfully calmed Mercè down without hurting her. It’s warmth that steals into his blood and quivers under his skin. Teddy curls his fingers around Charlie’s, squeezing tight, not quite realising how much he craved another person’s touch until now. Charlie looks at him, a flash of realisation in his eyes. He turns back to look ahead, tightening his hold on Teddy’s hand.

They run through the storm, splashing down the twisting path and shoving aside bushes. Charlie jabs his wand, shoving the cottage door open, and he pulls Teddy in after him. Teddy lets go of his hand to close the door, and he leans against it, his palms pressed against the wood behind him. They stare at each other, soaked to the skin, puddles forming at their feet. Charlie is pale beneath his freckles, his Weasley red hair plastered to his skull. His eyes, blue as an Italian summer’s sky, are searching Teddy’s face for – something, Teddy doesn’t know what.

Teddy’s unanswered question hangs in the air, rumbling with the storm outside, but Charlie clearly isn’t intending to answer it. ‘Good job,’ he says instead. ‘You were brilliant out there. Harry’s right – you’ll make a good keeper.’

Teddy presses himself against the door, feeling the warmth leach away, feeling the vice that clamps around his heart. Dragons always come first with Charlie, remember? And Teddy is sadly, limitingly human. He smiles.

‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘You should get some rest … you said there’s a rescue coming up, isn’t there? There must be a lot of preparation to be done.’

‘Yes …’ Charlie says, taking a slight step back. ‘I … I’ll still stay the night. At least until the storm is over. I don’t want to leave you alone in case Mercè panics again.’

‘Of course. You can use the shower first if you want,’ Teddy offers politely.

‘Oh – no, I’m fine. You go first. I just need to –’ the other man waves his wand, muttering a Hot Air spell, and their clothes are dry again, the puddles Vanished. ‘I’m fine. You go ahead. I’m absolutely knackered. I’m going to sleep first.’

‘Sure, go ahead and use the bed. I can take the floor for the night,’ Teddy says, pushing himself off the door and making his way to the shower.

‘No, I’m fine with the floor,’ Charlie says, turning towards him. ‘I can’t take your bed.’

Teddy pauses in front of the shower stall, levelling him with a thoughtful look. ‘Take the bed, old man. It would be disrespectful for me to put you on the floor.’

Charlie snorts. ‘So says the little berk who calls me an old man.’

‘I call it as it is,’ Teddy shrugs, and steps into the shower stall.

The shower is merely a tiny square crammed behind the huge, wooden bed. You step in and the showerhead is directly above you. There is only a flimsy white curtain separating the shower from the rest of the cottage. Teddy has never taken a shower on nights when Charlie stays over, and Charlie doesn’t bother to shower the one night he’s here, but tonight, Teddy is cold and spells cannot sweep away the iciness in his chest.

He draws the shower curtain, the metal rings clinking. The bed creaks as Charlie throws himself onto it, muttering what sounds like a curse beneath his breath. Teddy pulls off his clothes, tossing it on to the floor beyond the curtain, and turns the water on. He shoves the shower handle all the way to ‘Fire-breathing Hot’.

A Silencing Charm would have been suspicious; he mustn’t make it seem like there’s anything wrong. The shower, on the other hand, is noisy: the pipes rattling, the hiss of the spray, the patter of the water hitting the tiles. Safe enough. Teddy turns his face upwards, closing his eyes, and lets his heart break.

He's being foolish; Merlin, he's _been_ so foolish. There are hopes he is too afraid to voice out, even to himself. Perhaps it's merciful for them to be shattered before they could truly take form. He thought he had learned his lesson; he thought breaking his godfather's heart – and disappointing his grandmother and uncle – would have been enough to teach him about reaching for things greater than he is.

Mucking around in dragon dung, hauling muddy boulders out of the way to create enclosures, spending the past months alone with no one but a cantankerous dragon for company – these were never work he sought for himself.

When he was younger, armed with his stellar exam results, he saw a glittering career with the Ministry of Magic; now, of course, that has been torn to shreds by his implication in Dermot’s plot to kill the Ministry’s high-ranking officials with guns and for Squibs to take over the Ministry. Their first order of business would have been to subjugate the Muggles, who are born of non-magical stock and hence, still inferior to Squibs. The terrorists still needed wizards, of course – young, idealistic, arrogant pricks like him. So easily manipulated to betray his godfather.

So: dragons weren’t his first choice. They were his _only_ choice. But now … it's the sense of being part of something beyond him. It's seeing that he can be part of another creature’s healing. It’s fighting for these majestic beasts reduced to dire straits by human greed. He’s not here for _himself_. He’s here for Mercè.

The past year has been slow going, but he knows it has been _good_ for him. Good enough that he has begun thinking about the improbable: that good can also mean happy. He didn’t mean to say the things that he did. But when Teddy held out the sandwiches and Charlie’s face lighted up, he forgot his crimes and could only think about how much he likes this man.

He should have clung harder to the reasons why he shouldn’t: too old, too short, too brash, too Gryffindor, too Weasley, too close to his godfather. _Stupid._ He twists the handle, shutting off the shower, and abruptly, the cottage is filled with silence. The thick walls have muffled the storm, which sounds like a perpetual, low roar. It feels ominous, like the world holdings its breath.

Teddy tries not to think, grabbing his wand from where he put it on the floor just outside the shower curtain. He dries off with a quick Hot-Air Charm, and summons his clothes from the cubbyhole across the way. He steps out of the shower to find Charlie sitting at the foot of the bed, leaning against the wall, his legs crossed.

The older man looks up. His face is creased with resignation and weariness. Teddy freezes, his fists involuntarily clenched.

‘I’d like to … I’d like to say something.’ There is steel in Charlie’s tone, and he keeps his eyes focused on Teddy’s face. ‘Will you listen to me?’

Teddy hesitates before crossing the room and nestling himself in the armchair in front of the crackling fire. His steaming-hot shower had done nothing to dispel the chill in his chest, and he welcomes the comfort of any heat. He wraps his blanket around himself and nods. He’s as warm as he can be, considering the desolation that will sweep over him at the end of whatever Charlie has to say. This is going to be awful, but he’ll survive it – he’s been through worse.

‘You don’t know what it’s like growing up in a big family. I’m sure Ron and Ginny have their own issues, quite different from Bill’s or mine. When you’re the oldest, you’re expected to help raise your younger siblings – be a role model,’ Charlie is looking down at his hands. ‘Bill does that perfectly fine – Head Boy, straight Os, absurdly brave. Everybody likes him, including ruddy _goblins_. It’s easy for him to be a role model … but I … I knew I couldn’t be what my mother would have wanted. I think Fred might have understood, but … well …’ Charlie shrugs.

‘What did you think your mother would have wanted?’ Teddy asks, because he cannot imagine kindly Mrs Weasley – she who treats him just like one of her own grandchildren even after Victoire and he broke up – not accepting her children, no matter how different they insist on being.

‘She would have wanted me in the UK, married with children,’ Charlie makes a face. ‘I know, I know, I’m just making presumptions. She’s only saying those things because I haven’t been truthful. I know that underneath it all, she only wants me to be happy, and she worries that I’m lonely. I understand.’

‘Why haven’t you been truthful?’ Teddy speaks as carefully as he can, afraid – so afraid – of shattering the fragile honesty between them.

‘When I was growing up, there weren’t any gay people,’ Charlie says baldly. ‘Or at least, that’s what it seemed like. And my family is as straight as can be – look at the horde of grandchildren my brothers and sister have produced! I’m different … and that is such a scary, isolating thing to be in a family as close as the Weasleys. I thought I couldn’t be different. All the people I met then who I thought were gay, they hid who they were. And I thought I had to as well. There was only hiding, you see?

‘Just look at Dumbledore – he had to die before people could know he was gay. If it weren’t for Harry’s staunch support … do you think Dumbledore’s legacy would have remained largely intact?’ He shakes his head, looking dispirited. ‘I know what you’re going to say – that it’s different now – especially with Harry Potter himself coming out as bisexual … But I … I never thought to take that step myself. Isn’t that ironic? A Gryffindor who isn’t brave.’

‘Don’t be foolish,’ Teddy says immediately. ‘You _are_ brave. You wrestle dragons for a living, for Merlin’s sake! It’s normal to be scared when it comes to things like this. Especially when you’ve been … hiding for so long.’

Charlie studies his palms, his face closed, his shoulders hunched. ‘It’s very different for you, isn’t it? As a Metamorphmagus like you, gender is fluid … and I’m guessing that for you, so is sexuality.’

Teddy acknowledges it with a shrug. Even when he was a kid, a person’s gender didn’t influence his attraction to them. Appearance and personality matter more. It doesn’t matter which gender so long as he found them attractive.

Charlie finally looks up, and seeing his face, Teddy feels the ice creeping over his heart, the chill in his chest only deepening. ‘I can’t … I can’t be like you, Teddy.’ 

Charlie looks utterly desolate. In that moment, Teddy knows he must extinguish those unspoken hopes of his – a _Deflamus_ so thorough he can be around Charlie and pretend the other man has been nothing more but a respected mentor. He must do all he can to stop that look from ever appearing on Charlie Weasley’s face. It hurts more to see such wretchedness on Charlie than to think of rejection.

Teddy is standing before he knows what he can do now. It takes only two strides to cross the tiny space to the bed, but it feels like the largest, slowest steps he has ever taken. Charlie is watching him warily.

‘It’s fine,’ Teddy assures, perching himself on the edge of the bed, turning to face the other man. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to be like me, or like Harry and Draco. It’s all right. Your family – and I can say with confidence because there are still people who reject me because of who my father was, and the Weasleys have shown me nothing but kindness and acceptance – your family will love you no matter what. You know that.’

‘Knowing doesn’t change the feeling,’ Charlie says. ‘Irrational as that sounds.’

‘And it’s fine,’ Teddy repeats, trying for a reassuring smile.

Charlie looks at him, expressionless. Thunder is rumbling through the walls, the storm begging to be let in. Teddy thought he was safe from the storm, that his defences weare strong enough, but when Charlie reaches out to take his hand, his walls are breached and the storm sweeps through him.

* * *

There is no going back from here. Charlie reaches out, takes Teddy’s hand, and knows this improbable man is the Morholt of his walls, a giant taking them apart stone by stone. He looks at Charlie with wide disbelieving eyes, his cheeks suffused with red. He opens his mouth, but says nothing. He only gawps at Charlie, bewildered.

Teddy is so _young_ – young enough to be his bleeding son – and he has been through enough pain. Charlie has never felt more afraid of hurting someone. Careful – he has to be so careful here. It feels as if he’s facing down a Horntail armed with nothing but a rock in his hand. How will he survive?

‘You are too bloody understanding,’ Charlie says, tightening his grip on Teddy’s hand.

Teddy frowns in consternation. ‘Am I supposed to be angry instead?’

‘Well, I’m not saying that I don’t prefer _this_ ,’ Charlie replies. ‘But … I don’t deserve you being kind.’

Teddy cocks his head, curious. ‘What do you mean?’

Charlie pauses, wondering how he should go about this. Godric, he has no bloody idea what he wanted out of this in the first place. He can’t remember why he started saying all those things, laying before them the things he was so afraid to confront. Seven hells, he _is_ still terrified at the thought of coming clean, of being truthful not only to the world, but also to himself. How can he face something he has been trying to avoid his whole life?

He thinks of those furtive nights with strangers in Muggle gay clubs, of trawling forums on the WizardNet for people to arrange anonymous fucks, and he feels a weariness settle under his shoulders, heavy as a soaking wet cloak. Sure, even before 2018, he has heard of people who have managed to carve out a way to live with their partners – love and determination will always find a way, it seems – but … it had always exhausted him to think of what he must give up for such a life. He didn’t think there was any other way of living with his sexuality until Teddy.

This man makes him wish there is another way of living, and Charlie realised quite abruptly a few months ago that there _is_ ; he’s only been ignoring it all along, because he is fucking terrified of changing his ways.

He didn’t want to be the arsehole who fucks around with Teddy, because he didn’t know what he wanted. He still doesn’t know what he wants, but it is too late now, isn’t it? Teddy made a move because Charlie wouldn’t, and Charlie hurt him with his response. They are now clinging onto the back of a fleeing dragon, rapidly ascending and out of control.

Charlie is flailing, wondering if he might lose grip of the dragon’s spikes and plunge to his death in a roiling sea of despair. Merlin, he hasn’t even told the other man how he _feels_ about him. He hasn’t said anything about how much he loves the way Teddy is with dragons – so tender and soft and understanding that the other keepers were certain he would be stomped out by an errant dragon that cannot be gentled, but Charlie is awed that a person in such pain can remain so _soft_.

He hasn’t said anything about loving the way Teddy is empathic and attentive to every man or beast he meets. He notices things about the keepers and the dragons, and he remembers them, and takes care to do something for them. Just like the cheese sandwiches from earlier. Merlin’s balls, Teddy Lupin is a precious, precious creature – worth a hundred dragon eggs, although he knows he mustn’t say so in front of Teddy, who will surely condemn him for placing a hundred creatures’ lives above his single one. That is just the sort of man Teddy is, and why in the name of Morgana would such a person choose _Charlie_? It is bloody ridiculous. It fills Charlie with disbelief and doubt – could he have misread everything?

Charlie takes a deep breath. _There is no going back from here._ He looks up and meets Teddy’s eyes. ‘I love you.’

The dark-haired man flinches – that same inscrutable and frightening reaction to certain things Charlie says or does. Reactions that hint at the depths of pain Charlie cannot know – and cannot reduce. Anguish washes through him. He knows that besides the uncertainty he is bringing to the table himself, there is Teddy’s own trauma to contend with. So far, the other man has refused to even mention the mistake that changed his life irrevocably, and in that avoidance lies another difficulty that should have stopped anything from happening between the two of them. As Harry’s friend, Charlie knows too much to be a clean slate for Teddy.

He lets go of Teddy’s hand, but the younger man snatches his hand back, the look on his face fierce and offended. Charlie’s heart skips a beat.

‘I am not rejecting you,’ Teddy says, his eyes intent on Charlie’s. ‘I’m not saying no. Okay? Are we clear on this?’

‘All right …’

‘It’s only …’ Teddy hesitates, and Charlie senses the pulling away, the slipping out of his grasp, and he braces himself, telling himself he’s far too old to cry.

Teddy’s eyes widen, and he holds Charlie’s hand to his chest, their fingers intertwined. ‘No, no, please, Charlie, I’m not rejecting you. I’m just trying … I’m just trying to think what I can say, what I must say. I don’t … I don’t want to hurt you. That is the last thing I want to do. This is … I didn’t think you would say that. I didn’t think it was possible … I thought I was the one who …’ He shakes his head and clutches Charlie’s hand to his chest. ‘Will _you_ hear me out now? Will you let me speak?’

Charlie can feel Teddy’s heart beating hard and fast through his chest, the drumbeat of his nervousness. The words to come will demand courage from Teddy, just as Charlie’s own confessions had called for the sort of bravery not even Gryffindors are equipped with. They are both afraid, but they are doing it anyway; they are taking a chance. He wraps his other hand around Teddy’s and nods, his eyes not leaving Teddy’s pale face.

Teddy exhales gustily, pushing hair out of his face. ‘I … I wanted to make a difference, I guess. My parents were heroes, and my godfather is Harry Potter. Most of us born in the generation after the war – we’ve lost people we didn’t even know, and our parents have all fought in the war, made a difference, shaped the world we know today.

‘I’m sure the others go through the same thoughts I do – how are _we_ supposed to live up to their legacies? Lily, Albus, James, Vicky, Scorpius … they’ve managed to find their niche, something that they’re good at and are proud of. It helps them see that there is no _need_ to live up to anything, that maybe the point of their lives is simply to … enjoy it? I guess?’

Teddy hesitates, his palm hot and sticky against Charlie’s, but Charlie doesn’t let go. He merely nods encouragingly, gratified that Teddy is even saying these things to him.

‘But I … it was a trifle more difficult for me to see that. I was in Hufflepuff in school, and it’s bullshit that House prejudice no longer exists, because it _does_. The other Houses have always had a defining characteristic, yeah? Even Slytherin has managed to rebrand themselves, changed up the narrative, but … Hufflepuff – we’re just known for being kind, yeah?

‘And I think people expected more from me. Because I’m a Metamorphmagus, and I always wondered what my parents – everyone tells me about how brave and selfless they were – I wondered what they might have wanted me to do, you know? So when Dermot came to me …’

Teddy stops, his gaze turned inwards. He is considering a world he hasn’t shared with Charlie, and Charlie hates that, hates the thought of Teddy going somewhere he can’t follow. He is tempted to say something, to yank the other man back to him, but he holds his tongue. He knows that Teddy needs that space to think.

‘You know most of what happened with the Squibs, don’t you? Harry must have told you when he begged you to take me in,’ Teddy’s smile is wry.

Charlie shrugs. ‘Harry loves you like a son.’

‘Yeah …’ Teddy’s smile fades, and he sighs. ‘I hate that I hurt him … I was so _stupid_. So naïve, and I guess Dermot saw that. Dermot … his parents died in the war protecting him. The Death Eaters wanted to kill him for a traitor to wizardkind, accusing him of giving his magic away or something like that … he never got over it, and he just hated and hated and _hated_ wizards more and more since the war ended. He didn’t have anyone, because his relatives couldn’t take him in – everybody was desperately trying to recover after the war …

‘I … I thought we were similar. We both wanted to prove ourselves. We both wanted to make a difference in this world, and … he was sweet and charming. I loved him. Of course, that was before I realised what he had in mind for improving the lot of the Squibs was mass murder of wizards. He chose me, because I’m Harry’s godson, because I’m seen as a “powerful” wizard with my Metamorphmagus abilities.’

Teddy sighs wearily. ‘By the time it came falling down and Harry helped me out of the mess … I … I was kind of lost, you know? I didn’t know what I could do. I didn’t know what I stood for anymore. I just … I had no bloody idea. And I … I don’t want to disappoint _you_ too. I’ve disappointed so many other people who love me. If I did that to you … if you should be disappointed in me … I don’t know what I could do if that happens. I really don’t.’

When he looks at Charlie, his gaze is clear and honest. There is vulnerability and fear and relief. Teddy Lupin has been trapped by his inability to say these things for the past year, and now that he has said them, Charlie can see the dragon within him shaking off the shackles, unfurling wings that have been bound in chains. Teddy has been set free. And if Charlie doesn’t reach out _now_ , he might miss this dragon flight forever.

‘What’s remarkable is that you see kindness as something … simple,’ Charlie reaches out a hand and brushes his thumb along Teddy’s cheek. ‘Being kind is one of the hardest things in the world. It’s so much easier to take the shit we’ve been through, to look at the rubbish state of the world, and to think to yourself, _well, there’s nothing I can do anyway_. It’s so much easier to be hard, to walk away, to do nothing. But you don’t. Somehow, you’ve remained soft … and gentle … and kind. You’re special. I’ve never met anyone like you before.’

Teddy’s eyes are shiny with tears, his lips trembling. He blinks and a tear falls. He grimaces ruefully and pulls away his hand to press his palms to his eyes. ‘You’re exaggerating. That’s too bloody cheesy to be real,’ he whispers, his cheeks suffusing with colour. ‘How in Merlin’s beard can you bring yourself to say such things?’

Charlie chuckles, gently pulling Teddy’s hands away from his face. ‘Because they’re true,’ he says, gratified to see the mingled happiness and disbelief on Teddy’s face. ‘I love you, remember? I am going to think that everything you do is wonderful – at least for the first three months.’

‘Three months? Is that how long the honeymoon period is going to last?’ Teddy gasps in mock offence. ‘You don’t think it could last longer for us?’

‘I don’t know,’ Charlie says, using his thumbs to brush the tears away from Teddy’s cheeks. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think it’ll be shorter,’ the other man replies with a shrug. ‘I think it’ll end the moment we leave this cottage. Because the rest of the world is out there, and … Harry will be mad.’

Charlie winces. There is no avoiding Harry Potter’s outrage – he is bound to disapprove. He sent his godson out here to be protected, not to be preyed upon. He will surely see it as a betrayal on Charlie’s part. Charlie sighs, dropping his hands to his lap.

‘But … I think we’ll be fine,’ Teddy says, placing a hand on Charlie’s forearm, moving closer on the bed. He looks up at Charlie tentatively, biting his bottom lip, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. ‘Harry isn’t unreasonable, and he doesn’t bear grudges. He’ll see how you’ve been so good for me.’

‘How have I been good for you?’ Charlie whispers, his mouth dry, unable to look away from Teddy’s lips.

The air between them thrums with electricity. Desire is lightning in Charlie’s veins, and his heart is thunder pounding in his chest. Over the past year, he has stopped himself again and again from thinking of Teddy in this way, to look at his young, lithe body and soft lips, to think of running his hands through his hair and down his back, to cup that pert little arse in his hands. If he could only look at Teddy as a uncle, such thoughts were forbidden. But now …

Teddy smiles slowly, as if he is a skilled Legilimens and he has cracked Charlie’s mind wide open. Charlie smiles back helplessly. Just as Teddy Lupin was the one to reach out, he is the one to lean forward, his hand tightening on Charlie’s forearm.

‘You gave me a chance to forgive myself out here with the dragons,’ Teddy whispers. ‘You let me prove that there is still something I can do. And you just told me that being kind is not a weakness.’

He is close, close enough for Charlie to feel Teddy’s breath against his lips, to see the tiny droplets clinging to the ends of Teddy’s lashes. Charlie wants to laugh, wants to cry, but he has no chance, because the younger man closes the distance between them, and their lips touch, and _oh_ , Teddy’s lips are as soft as Charlie has imagined.

He grabs Teddy’s shoulders, pulling the other man in, sliding backwards so that Teddy is lying on top of him, their bodies flush against each other. This first kiss is like any other between strangers who barely understand each other’s bodies – slightly awkward and sloppy and careful – but it is sweet, achingly sweet. Charlie pulls back, surprised by the depth of his joy. There will be heat and lust and passion, but for now, this is what he wants.

‘Thank you,’ Teddy whispers, his eyes closed, leaning his forehead against Charlie’s. His words fill the little space between them. ‘Thank you for everything you’ve said today.’

‘I could say the same to you,’ Charlie replies, gently running his fingers down Teddy’s back.

He wraps his arms around his lover, pressing his cheek closely against Teddy’s. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep. There is a swooping feeling in his belly, the incredulous feeling of soaring above the clouds, mounted on a giant, fire-breathing beast; he is on his dragon flight now, and there is no getting off. And as always, Charlie Weasley has absolutely no intention to.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the 2018 Harry Potter Cross Gen Fest. The author will be revealed on August 31.


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